The Road to Reconnect
by quiveringbunny
Summary: Much has happened between Oliver and Felicity. Now that he has returned from his fight with Ra's Al Ghul and announced plans to work with Malcolm Merlyn to defeat the Demon, Felicity has just told Oliver that she does not want his love. Rated M for a bit of steam in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Thank you for taking the time to read my first fanfiction piece. The story begins about an hour after the Uprising episode ended. It imagines how things might go after.

I don't own Arrow or any of these characters, but I thoroughly enjoy them.

Felicity was shaking, her hand fumbling the key in the lock to her apartment door. It had been an hour since her exchange with Oliver in the alley and she was still reeling from her own honesty and the way it appeared to affect him.

She had said what was on her mind, told him how she felt about his decision to ally himself with the worst man in the world in order to defeat the second worst man, Ra's Al Ghul. She knew, in most circles, the head of the League of Assassins would be considered the greatest villain alive, but from her perspective, Malcolm Merlyn was worse because his actions had set so much pain in motion and he threatened so many people she actually knew. He also had the nerve to waltz into their Arrow Cave in his $800 suit, breaching her security and then dared make some observation about her love for Oliver. Merlyn was a bastard and she hated him.

She lurched into her apartment and dropped her purse and red coat by the door. Exhausted, Felicity didn't even turn on the lights. She shuffled into the kitchen, uncorked an open bottle of Malbec and filled a Starfleet mug. Trudging to her couch, she set her drink on the end table and proceeded to crumble into the cushions. Hysterical sobbing into the armrest came next.

Tonight should have been so wonderful. After weeks of worry, wrestling with doubts about Oliver's existence on the planet, he had appeared as if summoned by the collective will of his friends. She could hardly believe it when she saw him standing high above the crowd, uncharacteristically out of the shadows, rallying everyone…leading like she always knew he could. It was like Christmas (if she actually celebrated Christmas) and Santa Claus was real (but incredibly hot and had told her loved her on a couple of occasions). Her heart nearly burst out of her chest. For a fleeting moment, she even wanted to scream, "I love you too!" because leaving his previous declaration unmatched had been gnawing at her deeply. But within an hour it had all gone to hell. Oliver had announced his intentions and Felicity found herself reacting and saying things she'd never dreamed she'd say to him. Damn it all.

"Felicity," she heard Oliver Queen nearly whisper from just a few feet away. He had been watching her for a few moments and the sight of her crying was devastating. She took a labored breath and raised her face from the pillow to see him hovering in the doorway.

"You didn't lock the door," he continued quietly. Felicity shook her head and folded herself more tightly on the sofa.

Oliver entered and paused to gather his thoughts as he locked the door behind him. Then he headed to the center of the room to kneel next to the sofa. Adrenaline had brought him to her, but the day had taken a lot out of him and he was feeling the pain of his wounds again. Felicity was close enough to touch and he wanted so badly to reach out and wrap her in his arms. He wanted to stroke her blonde hair and comfort her with his lips and his hands, but he knew that was not welcome. Instead, he waited silently as her sobs became whimpers.

He got up, stifling a wince, in search of tissues in the dark room. Returning with kitchen napkins, Oliver placed them in front of her. He carefully lowered himself back down to the ground beside her. Felicity's breathing calmed until the sound of slow panting filled the room. She used a napkin to wipe her nose and eyes and crushed it in her trembling hand. Oliver reached for the nearby mug and took a sip only to be surprised by the spicy flavor of wine instead of tea. He cupped it to steady himself and continued to drink.

"You're still hurt. Ra's injured you badly with that sword." She said it with surprising detachment.

"Yes, he did. I thought I was dead. I probably was. But it was really cold and that probably kept me from bleeding out until help came."

Oliver swallowed more wine and let it warm him.

"You shouldn't be here, Oliver. I said everything there was to say." Her words struck a chord and he finally engaged her eyes. They looked tired and puffy. He stared into them, grateful for the chance to see them again after his ordeal on the mountain.

"I know you did…but I didn't."

Felicity sat up on the sofa, rigid, wearing invisible armor. She wondered for a minute if Ray could build some for her. Oliver reached out to her and pulled off one of her shoes and placed it next to him. He was so tempted to grab her tiny foot and massage it to release her tension, but it looked too delicate. Instead, he peeled off the other shoe and studied it, running his finger along its edges. A shoe was easier to look at right now than Felicity's stricken face.

"You were right when you said that almost dying would change me – that it would give me a new perspective. It did. I had to fight to live. Dreaming about you was what kept me alive." Oliver put the shoe down, then reached out for Felicity's hand, forcing her to look into his shadowed face. "I wanted more than anything to come back to you. To show you who I am. Who I want to be." Felicity bit her lip and tried to stifle a new wave of tears, but droplets were brimming in her eyes.

"Go home," she muttered as she stood. Felicity pushed him out of her way and stalked out of the room.

He watched her disappear through a short hall on the opposite side of the living room. A soft light switched on. Oliver rose, using the sofa for support. He grabbed the shoes and then followed after her, toward the illumination.

Felicity's bedroom. He hesitated outside in the hallway, like a vampire waiting for an invitation. But it didn't come. So he leaned into the door jamb, gripping her pumps in one hand while the other came to rest atop a wound that was slower to heal than the others. Still, it hurt less than this conversation.

Felicity had retrieved her pajamas from beneath her pillow and was clutching them to her chest, protecting herself. Pajamas could protect her heart? From Oliver? How dumb was that?

"I know you don't want me to work with Merlyn, knowing who he is. What he is. But you have to understand. Ra's isn't going to go away. He's going to come after me to finish what he started. And since he didn't kill me the first time he's going to put more into it than just a sword fight on a mountain. He's going to try to get into my head first. By going after people I care about. And thanks to Nyssa, he knows who those people are."

Felicity tried not to listen. She didn't want to hear anything that might lessen her anger towards him. She charged past him and into the bathroom across the hall. She closed the door with a 'thwack'. Oliver heard the zip of her dress and closed his eyes. It was an intimate sound that cultivated a longing.

With the woman he loved behind another door and the sink running, Oliver ventured into the room and looked around. It was her retreat, wasn't it? A place where she could quiet her busy mind after a day of writing code and tracking criminals. Mostly light grey with pops of joyous color. He could imagine spending a lot of time here.

Oliver spotted the open closet door and moved to put the shoes on a rack inside. Afterward, he toured the room, examining details. Photos on the walls. The perfumes on her dresser. He turned his attention to her bed and studied it with interest. For a fleeting moment he imagined himself in it, tangled in sheets and Felicity Megan Smoak. A powerful thought.

Later, when Felicity emerged from her bathroom, fresher faced and pajama-clad, she found Oliver sitting on the floor beside the bed petting a fuzzy fuchsia-colored throw pillow. Not what she expected.

"Your room is nice. Soft." _Like you_, he thought to himself.

"Devoid of anything pointy and sharp. I get enough of that at work. This is where I sleep. I TRY to sleep," she said breathlessly. Felicity rushed past to the closet. She rifled through clattering hangers and hung her dress. Oliver looked up and saw how lovely she looked, golden hair down and dressed in penguin lounge pants and a t-shirt. His heart was beating fast, like the time she wore that little gold dress at the fundraiser or the red one in the restaurant, before the explosion…

"You really need to leave now, Oliver," she pleaded.

"I know." He heard Diggle's wise, calm voice in his head chanting, "_You need to go, Oliver_." Go away, Dig.

Felicity pulled back the covers and climbed into her bed. She fluffed her pillows by punching them aggressively. Oliver watched her, wide-eyed and mindful that they were likely a substitute for his face at that moment. Felicity settled in, arms folded across her chest.

"I'm turning out the light. You have to go home." This time, she deployed her loud voice. It was impressive.

"Okay." He liked it when Felicity dug in her heels. His girl was brave.

Felicity waited, but Oliver wasn't moving. He just sat there, knees up, fixated on this ridiculous pillow like it was the most precious thing he'd ever seen. After weeks in a rustic cabin and rough surroundings, it was the plushest, most decadent thing he could imagine. He stroked it gently, like he would Felicity's shoulder. If he could. Suddenly, Felicity took off her glasses and set them on the nightstand. She switched off the bedside lamp. Now, Oliver and Felicity were illuminated only by a meager nightlight near the doorway.

"Oliver." He heard her and nodded, but kept sitting, staring at the night light. Felicity closed her eyes tightly, wishing he him gone. Hell, she wished a lot of things right now. There was a long, quiet pause. Then Oliver spoke, just above a whisper.

"Tommy and I were inseparable growing up. Then, when I went away we took different paths. It was hard when I came back, but we couldn't forget our friendship. Then I lost him because of the Undertaking. Because of his father's vengeance and his disrespect for human life. I hate Merlyn for what he did to Tommy. I hate what he's done to Thea. I wish I could have killed him before. But he was too strong."

Hearing desperation in his voice, Felicity felt herself wanting just then. She wanted to climb out of bed and put her arms around Oliver. She wanted to feel his warmth again and comfort him. But he loved her and that made things complicated. She knew that she loved him too, but to say it and to act on it would only bring her misery. She was convinced of this.

"Tommy was my best friend and I miss him. But nothing I can do will bring him back." Felicity could hear his pain, low and trembling. His words reminded her of what she had said to Ray recently about his wife, Anna. She put her hand over her mouth so her own reaction was silenced.

"Felicity, I do love you. You know that. And I understand that you don't feel the same way either because you aren't attracted to me or maybe you have feelings for Ray now. Maybe both. But whether you love me or not, I need you to know that you are my best friend now." Oliver's words hung in the dark while tears slipped down Felicity's cheeks.

"And I know you don't like what I have to do now. I know you hate Merlyn and you think I'm making a big mistake. I respect that. But even if you can't love me, I still need you. I need my best friend right now."

Felicity chewed on her bottom lip and processed all of it. He had revealed more to her in the past half hour than he had in months. Of course, she now saw it too. An earnest romance had hardly begun between them, but their friendship was grounded in reality. Hours spent side by side. They had taken huge risks to keep each other from harm. They were partners, willing to take risks for each other. Of course she was….

"You're my best friend too," she managed to whisper.

Oliver let out a deep breath, like he'd been holding it in since he arrived at the apartment. His eyes watered, but he held himself together.

"That doesn't change what I said earlier. You hear me?" she continued. Oliver slowly nodded, then realized she couldn't see his response. "Love is not happening."

"Whatever you say." _For now_, he thought.

"And I am not going to hold my tongue about what you are doing. Just because you aren't dead and we're best friends, that doesn't mean you get a pass. I am going to be honest and tell you what I think."

Oliver nodded again. "I would expect that."

"You really are exasperating, you know. Here in my bedroom. Finally. Fondling my favorite pillow and exasperating me."

Suddenly, the pillow hit her softly on the side of the head.

"Hey!" she yelped.

"Most women don't take issue with my fondling," he growled with a smirk. Felicity clamped her eyes shut and asked silently for strength.

Oliver approached the bed and leaned over her as she grimaced. His hand lightly adjusted the hair around her beloved face. Then he drew closer, his breath on her cheeks. "And they don't find me exasperating in their bedrooms, Felicity."

His initial intention had been to kiss her on the forehead. He hovered near her lips, then shifted his trajectory at the last moment. He softly kissed her nose instead. She gulped. Oliver turned and headed for the door. No longer feeling the weight of their rift, he smiled a little to himself and adopted a more relaxed Oliver Queen saunter.

When he reached the doorway, the fuchsia pillow, hurled with great speed and accuracy, nailed him squarely on the ass. He stiffened and paused for a moment, but didn't look back before resuming his way out. Felicity managed a minor fist pump in the air before turning and pulling the covers over her head for some desperately needed sleep.

And there we have it. The first of 4 chapters. Thanks again for reading. I am really enjoying writing this.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Month Later**

_Ray Mister Fucking Perfect Palmer._ That was the way Oliver referred to Felicity's boss in his head most of the time. Rationally, he knew that Ray was not a terrible person. To the contrary, he believed the man to be a nice person. Too nice. Ray was a grown up, self-made, billionaire Boy Scout nerd and his goodness and "gee whiz" earnestness just about drove Oliver out of his mind.

Of course, he would have had zero problem with Palmer if he hadn't swooped in on his magic helicopter or rocket ship or whatever and usurped Queen Consolidate just before stealing Oliver's girl. The latter felt worse, somehow. Yes, Felicity and Oliver were "best friends" now, but that didn't stop him from being in love with her and she would always be his girl. Always. Still, knowing that she was working beside Palmer every day and occasional late nights and some weekends made him wish that he could still put arrows in people with less discretion. He had seen them kiss that one time and it had set him on edge for days. He didn't like how that felt.

Robert Queen's son wasn't a jealous man. Usually he was on the receiving end of somebody else's envy, typically in a form of a jealous boyfriend. But in this case, he hated that Palmer could be kissing Felicity right now. He could. Now, Oliver didn't know for sure if Felicity and Palmer were actually a thing. He never asked, afraid to betray their friend status. He didn't really want to know if some crazy smart, passably good looking rich guy with uncallused hands and a scarless physique was touching her delicate fingers or nuzzling the soft skin behind her earlobe. He really didn't.

Oliver reminded himself that it was probably safer if she was with Palmer. For now. Since he returned from training on the island he had been focused on the challenge at hand (dealing with Ra's) and most of his relationships were rather strained or non-existent. Still, he didn't want to lose connection with Felicity. If nearly being dead taught him anything, it was that she was someone he needed to have in his life and if she wasn't standing next to him, she would turn up in his dreams. So what was the point of cutting himself off?

Felicity noticed that Oliver never came to visit her office. When they met for lunch he would loiter in the downstairs lobby, but never deign to ride the elevator up. That made her a bit sad because she was proud of her space – the bump to VP had bolstered her confidence and she had decorated the much-too-large room with some personal touches that included a photo of her crazy mother, her diploma from MIT and a fern that Oliver had given to her (much like the one she had gifted him for the Arrow Cave, only much larger and with frilly fronds). She wanted him to see that she put it somewhere prominent. Still, she understood how painful it was for him to enter Palmer Technologies. The place was a physical reminder that he had lost his family's legacy, even though he had moved on and was completely focused on being the Arrow and now consumed with thoughts of Ra's Al Ghul.

Oliver's arrival at the building for lunch to discuss the financial challenges of running a hero team on a shoestring budget was impending. They initially planned to hit a new Asian place Oliver had heard about, but an underlying fear of covert peanuts ended up negotiating the meal down to a less ominous Italian restaurant a few blocks away.

Felicity's stomach had been growling for 45 minutes and all she wanted to do was face plant into a dish of gnocchi. And a salad. And bruschetta. There was going to be a feeding frenzy and it wasn't going to be pretty.

When Felicity had viewed her ensemble in the mirror that morning - a new light blue camisole and jacket with a charcoal skirt and black heels - she had to remind herself that she was just meeting Oliver and he was now in the friend zone. While she had approved of the outfit then, now she wanted to chow down and she wished she had worn something roomier instead. Ms. Smoak was just about to Google stylish caftans when Ray entered, looking pensive.

"What's wrong now?" Felicity asked. Ray waited for a beat and then his faced relaxed and he sighed. His energy and mood changed.

"Oh, nothing, really. Just trying to figure out how to turn carbon monoxide into energy. Just a thing that's been rattling around in my head this week."

"Is that all?" Felicity cocked her head and smirked. Ray didn't have small ideas. Only massive, expensive, brain-busting ones. She had never seen anyone who fired on all cylinders all the time like that. It was exciting. And kind of exhausting. She had spent the morning in a requirements review meeting for a new battery design after several days of testing the quantum chip for Ray's suit and nights looking after Team Arrow. Another new idea to consider might just send her blonde head spinning off her shoulders.

"Yeah, well. It's important, don't you think? Imagine what a game changer that would be." He was earnest. His eyes sparkled when he was earnest, she had noticed.

"Most definitely."

"How about we order in sushi and hash out some concepts?" On that, Felicity's phone lit up with the name "Oliver Queen." Ray looked down and swallowed. He knew Oliver Queen was still an important figure in Felicity's life, but he wasn't sure he liked it. Oliver seemed like a decent guy, but he didn't have the best reputation around town. He had, after all, lost his company through mismanagement. Ray had also heard that Queen was a player. Ray's feelings for his coworker were growing and he thought it might be leading to something. But they weren't dating exclusively, so her personal life wasn't his business.

"Sorry. I have plans," she grimaced. "You know, I have to take this," Felicity continued with an apologetic tone as she rose from her chair, phone in hand. She turned away to answer it privately.

"Hi," she said quietly as she moved toward her coat rack. "Great. I'm coming. With you. Down. I mean, I'm using the elevator to descend to the lobby to meet you. Stop snickering. I can hear you." Ray watched her stammer as she snagged her purse and coat. Felicity disconnected the call.

"Your idea sounds intriguing, Ray. Can we talk about it later? I have some time after 4." With that, Felicity rushed out.

When Felicity emerged from the lobby elevator, Oliver made a conscious effort not to cheer. It was hard. She shimmered in his eyes and he was a little overwhelmed. How could this woman unhinge him like this? God. She gave him a light hug and they proceeded toward _Abruzzi_ on Water Street. He observed her escalating pace and by the time they reached the restaurant Felicity was nearly sprinting in her high heels. He found this display of unabashed hunger comical.

Oliver was grateful that the restaurant was quiet and they were seated at an oval booth that afforded him an opportunity to sit next to Felicity rather than across from her. He noticed her hair smelled of vanilla and coconut today and it was intoxicating. She studied the menu for a whole fifteen seconds before waving at the waiter to approach.

"You know what you want, Oliver?" she asked, eyeing the drink list.

"Yes, Felicity." He was staring at her when he said the words, but her attention was elsewhere.

They ordered, with Oliver requesting a basket of bread to keep his friend from gnawing on the napkins. A basket appeared quickly along with two glasses of red wine. Felicity pounced.

"Aren't you having some?" she asked, buttering a roll with gusto.

"I'm kind of afraid to reach in there."

"Don't worry. I don't bite. Actually, I'm more of a nibbler. That's not really biting, right? I mean, that doesn't leave a lasting mark. Kind of like a hickey, you know." She knew she was digging in deep on this one and stammered to try to escape her own frothing tongue.

Oliver decided to throw her a lifeline. "Please pass the butter, Felicity." She gratefully pushed the dish toward him.

Silence fell over them. Oliver prepared his thoughts. Lately, he had begun spending a little extra time each morning on the Internet reading about technology news so that he could engage her on her own territory. He didn't want Felicity to have to explain her activities and accomplishments in the lair like he was a schoolboy anymore. Learning about tech issues seemed like a fair balance, since she had done so much to understand topics like poisons and weaponry. At first, the tech stories read like gibberish, but once Oliver approached it like learning a new language – similar to Russian or Chinese – he became more comfortable and it was moderately interesting.

"So, Felicity. Do you think there will ever be a hyperloop that connects Starling City and Boston or Las Vegas?" Felicity looked at him quizzically.

"I don't know, Oliver. Maybe. I kind of hope not." He looked at her curiously. Felicity took a breath. "I can't imagine what kind of hell my life would be if my mother was suddenly 30 minutes away." She made him smile.

"I understand. That could make things…complicated."

"You have no idea." She took a slug of her chianti.

"But hyperloops are cool, right. It's a good idea?" he asked, trying to resurrect the tech discussion.

"Oliver, do you mind if we talk about something else? I spend all day talking about artificial intelligence and advanced robotics, front and center on every story from the latest issue of Scientific American. It gets a little tedious. I would rather talk about other things for a while. Does that make sense? Do you mind?" She looked worried to disappoint him and was glad to see him break into a smile. He shook his head.

"Not at all." Oliver noticed how close he was sitting to the object of his affection and he wasn't complaining. If he extended his neck a couple of inches to his left, he had a nice view of Felicity's modest cleavage. He noted to himself that this would probably be the highlight of his day.

"We're supposed to be talking about upgrading the systems in the lair and how we're going to pay for it," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Ugh. Right. But it's not as much about upgrades as it is redundancy. We don't have much in place if the primary systems get knocked down."

"How much, do you think?"

"I could maybe borrow a few things from the office. Maybe divert a little cash from a slushy slush fund of Malcolm Merlyn's I managed to crack recently." This raised Oliver's eyebrow. He smirked with admiration. "What's left, she continued, "will cost about 45 thousand."

Oliver whistled. "When I think about all the money I wasted when I was younger..." Felicity looked at him with sympathy. He wanted to reach out and reassure him at this moment. Touch his arm, perhaps, but she held back.

"That's okay. I'll get it. There are still some minor assets I haven't liquidated yet. Some property on the bay my Dad used to use for fishing. I can probably sell it."

"You could have a big bake sale!" Oliver knew Felicity was trying to lighten the mood, but the comment hung in the air like a ridiculous balloon. He decided to change the subject.

"That's a new outfit, isn't it? Nice."

"Yes, Oliver. It is. Thank you. I didn't expect you to notice things like that." Suddenly, Oliver perked up, excited. He had been waiting for a segue way. He dug reached over to his jacket and pulled a small box from the pocket, wrapped in a bit of newspaper and tied with a little white ribbon. .

"Here. This kind of goes with what you're wearing." He bit his lip nervously and placed the box on the table in front of her. Felicity was completely surprised.

"You bought me a present?"

"No. I kind of…made it."

"Oliver, you didn't have to do this." She stared at the box with great curiosity.

"I know. But I wanted to. Friends can do presents from time to time, right?"

"Well, sure. Yes. Friends can do presents. Absolutely." She picked up the box and examined it. "Is there an occasion?"

Oliver's blue eyes flashed into hers.

"Not officially." His tone lowered. The effect, which assured the nearby waiter could not eavesdrop, made Felicity's face warm. She started to untie the ribbon.

"I was thinking about…how brave you are. Most people wouldn't know that about you. It's not like you can talk about the things we do…at night…with the rest of the world."

Felicity peeled off the paper. Inside was a plain white box. She lifted the lid. Something glittered inside. She picked up a simple gold chain, long and thin. As she raised it, she glimpsed a flat, oblong piece of golden metal dangling on it. Felicity smiled as she admired it closely in her hand.

"You made this? It's so pretty."

"Yes." He leaned in to gauge her reaction. Felicity looked at him and cocked her head, an unasked question on her lips. He grinned a moment and then got serious again.

"I don't think you knew how much it meant to Sara when you took that bullet for her." Felicity's face changed, remembering Sara. Oliver was immediately worried that this happy moment was turning dark. Oliver reached up to touch her shoulder.

"It meant a lot to her that you would risk yourself for her. Being with the League all that time, everything she had been through…she wasn't used to having other people look out for her."

"I miss her."

"I know. Me too." They stared into each other's eyes for a moment until Felicity broke away and turned her gaze to the necklace again.

"So…"

"So…that's the bullet," he said with a grin. Felicity's mouth opened.

"No way! The actual bullet?"

"Well, yeah." He took it from her fingers and proceeded to undo the clasp. She shifted, flipped her hair to the opposite side and offered her lovely neck. He was grateful she couldn't see the look on his face. She felt his warm breath close to her and goosebumps were rising on her arms.

"It was a through and through, but I retrieved it. Didn't want any trace found at the scene. I cleaned off the blood, of course." He leaned forward and placed the necklace in front of her, then secured the clasp. He carefully let it drop to the back of her neck and touched the spot, assuring it was closed. "I got to thinking that you can't show everybody your scar, your badge of honor. So, I made this to remind you of what you did. What it meant. How brave I think you are. When you wear it, it will be like our secret. A friend secret."

Felicity pulled the necklace taut and admired it. Her face beamed. She pivoted around in the booth and enveloped Oliver in an awkward, but welcome hug.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear. The thrill of being close to her again, having her face so close and warmth of her words, made his head spin a little.

Felicity worried momentarily that the hug lasted a scooch too long for a friendly embrace. But being back in his arms was a challenging sensory experience to end. Still, she finally pulled away, averting her eyes from his as nonchalantly as possible.

"It's really pretty," She admired it, as it hung there. Oliver noted that he had estimated the length of the chain just right. The heart dangled low, just above the shadow of her cleavage. He swallowed and smiled.

"I'm glad you like it."

"So, add jewelry designer to your long list of hyphenates?"

He responded with a proud smile. There was a lull again and he stared at her.

"Did it the wound heal alright?" he asked quietly.

"I think so." Suddenly, Felicity was peeling off her jacket and displaying her shoulder blade, covered only by the tiny strap of her silky camisole. There was a faint impression on her white skin. He took the opportunity that was offered to him and reverentially touched the area with his finger. It was just a small dip in the skin now.

"Yes. It looks fine. Nobody would know it was there…except us," he had to control his voice a little now. Even though they were in a public place, touching her like this felt intimate. God, he wanted to kiss that spot. More than anything at that moment, he wanted to flatten his tongue against it and learn the feel and taste of it. He wanted to push the strap of her camisole away and have a full canvas of her lovely white skin to adore with his mouth. She was just inches away.

Then, suddenly, their entrees arrived. Felicity quickly repositioned her jacket and resumed her place next to him while Oliver shifted the wrapping and box out of the way.

Felicity smiled warmly as she devoured her plate of pasta.

"I should have ordered the gnocchi," Oliver announced, staring covetously at her plate.

"Sorry, pal. When it comes to soft pillowy pasta smothered in creamy gorgonzola sauce, I don't share."

"I'll trade you a ravioli," he said, while thinking of other pillows he would prefer.

"So not happening."

"Damn, you're tough."

"I know. I have a scar to prove it. And a necklace." She smiled at him warmly. Oliver basked in it.

The two friends feasted in relative silence, except for when Oliver attempted to steal off her plate. He paid dearly.

"Now you have to get me a cannoli for dessert," she declared.

Oliver laughed and shook his head. "Where do you put all this food? You are a small woman."

Then a presence arrived, looming over their table.

"Hey, there you are!" Oliver didn't have to look up from his plate. He recognized the voice and closed his eyes.

_Ray Mister Fucking Perfect Palmer._


	3. Chapter 3

**6 Weeks Later**

Time crawled not knowing when your enemy was going to strike. While some might become complacent, Oliver made a deliberate effort to stay vigilant because he knew that to do anything less could mean lives. He, Thea and Malcolm Merlyn had returned from training on Lian Yu two weeks prior and there was still no sign of the League of Assassins in Starling City. He had Team Arrow monitoring the public and private airports, Merlyn's spies outside Nanda Parbat watching for suspicious activity, and each night after his "work," he took to his motorcycle, crisscrossing the city. During his rounds, he checked on the people he cared about, reaffirming his mission to keep them safe.

Training had been difficult. Thea had demonstrated some real growth in her skills during the exercises and Oliver was proud of her progress. But it had been hard to see his Speedy acting with such ferocity – he recalled when she was afraid of ghost stories and grasshoppers in the garage. She was a formidable young woman now, capable of besting most men in a precarious situation. Of course, the men of the League would be exceptional fighters. He hoped she would never have to face them.

Oliver would not admit it aloud, but training on the island had unsettled him. Malcolm had insisted that they recreate his prior fight with Ra's Al Ghul with as much detail as possible and they reenacted it daily. Malcolm wanted him to learn Ra's Al Ghul's movements. He believed that if Oliver could get into the Demon's head, it would help him defeat their enemy. But Oliver seemed to bristle at this approach. Merlyn worried the younger man was still not ready. Not focused enough. Oliver sensed the his dissatisfaction.

Felicity noticed Oliver making his rounds sometimes, dressed in his Arrow gear. He kept a respectful distance, but she still caught sight of his breath rising in the cold dark air by the street light outside her home or in the shadows as she walked out of Verdant. He didn't stay long, maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Enough time to assure his friend was safe. Laurel and John confirmed they had seen him too. Given the threat against Oliver, Felicity found herself grateful for the sitings, as they reassured her that he was alright as well.

Unfortunately, Oliver was not lurking in the parking garage of Palmer Technologies on this particular Friday night as Felicity approached her car. Ray was still upstairs working on his ATOM suit. Her brain was weary and distracted by the day, as she unlocked the car door. She didn't notice the black van that stopped nearby. She didn't see the two men that got out either. Suddenly, there was a rag against her mouth and a black bag over her head. She disappeared inside the van. Then the unmarked vehicle exited the parking garage and disappeared into the streets.

On Saturday morning, Oliver arrived at a nondescript warehouse in The Glades ready for a day of combat training with Merlyn. It was a large structure with plenty of space where Merlyn had constructed rooms for specific purposes. This had become a regular meeting place for the two men and it was now a familiar ritual. Oliver would arrive around 9 am and they would practice with katanas until 11, then they would spend 30 minutes in a chamber Merlyn had erected to simulate the thin air and cold of the mountain. Next, they would fight again, this time with staffs or clubs. Sometimes Merlyn brought in a proxy, a seasoned fighter who could challenge Oliver with unexpected moves, but usually he sparred with Oliver himself. Often there were dangerous obstacles to maneuver around while they fought, as Merlyn sought to raise the level of difficulty in their matches.

_God, I hate this sonofabitch_, Oliver thought as he followed Malcolm into a new space. Merlyn flipped a switch and the overhead industrial lights illuminated the space. The two men moved to the center of the tiled floor of a new cavernous room that had just been renovated. One long wall consisted of windows. They were painted grey. On the opposite wall there was an upstairs floor with mirrored windows, presumably where the managers of the former manufacturing facility kept tabs on the workers below.

Oliver, dressed in black track pants and a grey t-shirt, faced Merlyn who was wearing a serious black karategi, befitting the Dark Archer. _Pretentious prick_, Oliver thought as they circled each other wielding heavy sticks. Merlyn's eyes were dark and serious as he advanced toward Oliver and took opportunities to engage him with his weapon. Their sticks made a sharp _clack_ when they made contact.

"Good. Keep eye contact, Oliver," Merlyn directed. Oliver nodded. The two proceeded to engage again and sounds indicated each met the other evenly until there was a softer noise indicating Oliver had made contact with Merlyn's bicep. Merlyn made no audible sound, unfazed by this level of pain. Oliver saw a flash of color on his wrist and thought he'd made contact.

"How did that one get past you?" Oliver wondered aloud. Suddenly, Merlyn took this moment to advance unexpectedly and pummeled Oliver with a series of hits that made their mark and caused him to drop his stick.

"Maybe it didn't," Merlyn stated matter-of-factly. He stepped back and centered himself, lowering his stick while Oliver recovered from the volley. "Sometimes, in order to disarm an opponent physically, you must disarm him psychologically first."

Oliver grumbled, irritated with himself and annoyed with Malcolm for being right. That was a lesson that he would not forget.

Then, Oliver's phone rang from inside his jacket pocket on the other side of the room. He recognized the tone, reserved for Quentin Lance and headed to answer the burner that was dedicated to Arrow communication. Merlyn watched, annoyed.

Oliver turned his back, attempting the appearance of privacy.

"Yes?"

"Hello. I'm just calling to ask if you have seen Felicity Smoak?"

"No," Oliver's adrenaline, already heightened from the fight, started boiling up. "What's going on?" he asked, his altered voice plummeting to a growl.

"I got a call from Ray Palmer. He's concerned. He found her car door open in the Palmer Tech parking garage. Seemed off. I told him I'd look into it. Thought maybe she might be with you."

"I'll find her." Oliver Queen hung up, his mind already racing with a thousand fears and plans for located the woman he loved. They were interrupted when Merlyn's stick suddenly made contact with Oliver's leg while his back was turned.

"God damn," Oliver protested as he whirled around. Merlyn's moves were more aggressive than ever and he was on the offensive.

Felicity had awoken early – at least she guessed it was early, in nearly empty room. Her pink dress stood out against the white Spartan walls. She was sprawled out under a wool blanket on clean new mattress that still had the tags on it. There was a lightbulb high overhead and a heavy metal door that was obviously secured from the other side. The most interesting feature was a black glass wall. She tried to break it, but it was made of some kind of Plexiglas and she was missing her heels, so she had nothing to break it with. Felicity's purse was missing too, which meant she could not access any tech to escape her current situation.

Sitting alone on the mattress, she felt fear, frustration and anger. Here she was, a damsel in distress, again. She didn't like being unable to affect her situation. How did she get here? Who had taken her? Her mind raced with the names of all of the villains who might have targeted her. But who would give her a blanket? Her questions were answered an hour later when the door squealed open.

Felicity's eyes narrowed and her ire boiled when her captor entered. "What the hell?!" she demanded in her _loud voice_.

Merlyn strolled in, Felicity's purse slung over his shoulder. He held out a large take out coffee and a big paper bag in one hand.

"Good morning, Kitten. Room service. With a smile." His teeth were quite perfect as he grinned at her warmly.

Felicity seethed. "What is this? Why am I here?"

Merlyn feigned disappointment and drew back his offerings. "Not even a 'hello?' I brought you breakfast. And have provided remarkably civilized accommodations. Also, knowing that a lady feels naked without her purse, I return it to you as a gesture of good will." Merlyn tossed it to her. "No phone, of course."

"Go to hell." She opened it up and found it contained her wallet, some tissues and a lipstick. She looked up with a glare.

"You're out of sorts until you have your coffee, aren't you? I suggest you enjoy this. It would be a waste to throw it in my face. I am accustomed to pain and it wouldn't even register." It was as if he had read her mind.

"By the way, some of my money has gone missing from a certain account. I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that?" Felicity pressed her lips together in silence. Merlyn nodded acknowledgement. The money she siphoned from his slush fund was apparently missed.

He set the coffee down in front of her and stepped back, then shoved his hand in the bag and retrieved a croissant. He took a lusty bite and placed the bag down next to the coffee. "Rest assured, this isn't a long term situation. I just need you for a bit of leverage today. Think of yourself as a bit cheese to motivate a reluctant mouse."

"What? I'm cheese?" an indignant tone colored her voice now. She grabbed her fuchsia lipstick, opened it and rushed him, only managing to swipe his hands with it. He gently shoved her back with a laugh.

"You are crazy, Malcolm Merlyn!"

"I didn't just try to attack an assassin with a lipstick. Did I, Kitten?" he said pointedly, wiping the pink stains now obvious on his fingers. "Every time we meet I get a little more insight into you. The woman he loves. The woman who loves him…" Felicity's face flushed with his words. Once again, he had crossed the line with a personal observation he had no right to speak aloud.

"Now, enjoy those croissants while they are hot. Delicious." He finished off his pastry and backed out to the doorway. "Oh, these walls are thick, as is the glass, so screaming would be a waste of effort. Do keep an eye out for a show in a little while," he winked at her and then the door swung closed with a heavy metal _thunk_.

He _winked at her_. Felicity screamed. She jumped on the bed like she was pouncing on Merlyn's head and boxed the air in frustration.

Eventually, she settled down. Her hunger and jangled nerves made her succumb to the repast and it pained her to admit momentarily that the croissants were excellent. Some time later, one of Merlyn's burly henchman escorted her to an institutional-looking powder room for a bathroom break. She was quickly taken back to the room, but not before noticing the door was secured with an old fashioned outside bar, rather than a lock that could be picked.

Several hours later, Felicity noticed a light switch on behind the glass. She walked to the window and looked down. Fifty feet below, Oliver and Malcolm Merlyn faced each other holding batons like ones she had seen Oliver train with in the Arrow Cave. Her heart leapt at the sight of her lo-…her friend. Not thinking, she pounded on the glass with her fists and hollered, but it was obvious what Merlyn had said earlier was true. They could not hear her down on the floor. Now she was really frustrated and her hands hurt. Still, she felt some reassurance seeing Oliver so close and in her mind Malcolm's cheese comment began to make sense.

She watched their exchanges with great interest. The two men seemed fairly matched, though Malcolm was obviously the aggressor. She saw Oliver hit Malcolm and cheered aloud. Then suddenly he was pummeled with a sudden series of hits and Malcolm looked smug. She recognized the look of irritation smoldering on Oliver's face. He had very nice stubble today, she thought. Then she cursed herself. Her situation was serious and that was a completely unserious observation. Still, her eyes drifted over Oliver as he moved with grace, back and arm muscles flexing as he met Malcolm's blows.

She was surprised when Oliver stopped and walked away from Merlyn. His opponent looked irritated as he strolled to the side of the room and brought his lit phone out and answered it. She saw Oliver's face change. His head dropped. At first she wondered what was happening, but it didn't take an MIT graduate to realize what his body language communicated. Troubling news.

Suddenly, Malcolm was rushing at Oliver while his back was turned. Felicity squealed. "Oliver, behind you!" but he couldn't hear her. He was literally blindsided. She watched Oliver recover and spin around to face Merlyn with a new anger in his eyes.

"We need to stop," Oliver panted.

"No." Malcolm rushed at his opponent, full force, swinging the stick toward Oliver's face. Oliver met the stick with his own.

"You don't understand. I have to leave."

"You cannot let the outside world distract you, Oliver. Ra's Al Ghul is an impossible foe." The two continued fight, much more heatedly than they had all morning. Oliver was unable to end it and walk away.

Merlyn was relentless in his attacks. Meanwhile, Oliver mentally wrestled with his predicament. Felicity was in trouble and Merlyn was keeping him from finding her. This had to stop. He ramped up his technique and took a more aggressive role, advancing on Merlyn with determination and ferocity. He needed to win this match, fast.

"I don't underestimate Ra's. He basically killed me once already. I take him very seriously. But I don't think he's impossible."

"Yes, he did kill you. So you must not let anything, anyone, be more important than your mission. More important than preparing for that mission." They continued to connect with their sticks meeting with loud clattering sounds. Oliver gave as good as he got as they moved around the floor.

"Nothing. Nothing should divert your attention from what is happening here and now, Oliver. Imagine that I am him. Impossible," Merlyn spat out the word. They were close now and their fighting was fast. Intense.

From above, the fight looked like an impressive blur now. The tension on the floor was so palpable now, Felicity had to consciously breathe from time to time.

Fighting close again, Oliver brought everything he knew, everything he had to bear. He sized up his opponent constantly, trying to assess his energy, his possible weaknesses. He remembered the blow he had dealt early on. Was it something he could capitalize on now. His eyes diverted a moment to Malcolm's wrist to see if the blood had continued to flow down, indicating a serious wound.

But it wasn't blood. Not red blood from a fresh wound. It was dark pink. Certainly not a natural color. It was more like…

Felicity with that damned pen in her mouth. Felicity biting her beautiful bottom lip. Felicity leaving a tantalizing print on the rim of a wine glass. The vivid memories were like a punch in the face. Then he found new energy and directed it at Malcolm Merlyn, full force.

"What have you done?"

Merlyn smirked and continued to fight.

"I did what needed to be done. Relationships. Distracting relationships. Love," he continued, "will be your undoing. You need to let go of it." Once it registered in Oliver's ears, he was done. Done sparring with his teacher.

Oliver spun with all his weight and made contact with Malcolm's stick with such force that the man dropped it. He swung away and made contact with Merlyn where he knew it was likely to do the most damage. Oliver didn't let up until his opponent was flat on the floor and he was looming over him, the stick pressed firmly against his trachea.

"What have you done to Felicity?" he demanded.

"She's alright. She's okay." His tone was convincing.

Oliver shook his head. "The thing you don't seem to understand is that I am not you. Caring about other people. Love." Oliver leaned in to growl slowly in Merlyn's ear. "It doesn't make me weak. IT. MAKES. ME. WANT. TO. WIN."

Merlyn looked deeply into Oliver's eyes and saw the truth in what he had just said. He nodded.

"I should kill you right now." He was serious and Malcolm Merlyn knew it.

"You don't want to do that. Not in front of her."

Oliver processed the statement and looked to him for more information. Merlyn tilted his head up to the second floor looking over them. Oliver followed his direction, but only saw windows. He quickly grabbed the sash from around Merlyn's waste. He punched him hard in the face, then turned him over and tied his wrists with the sash. Oliver left him there, grabbed his jacket and ran to find a staircase up to the second floor.

Felicity rested her forehead against the glass, relieved that Oliver had prevailed below. She was worried for a moment that she would see him murder Merlyn. And while she could understand why, she was proud that he did not. The inconvenient truth was that Malcolm Merlyn was currently a necessary evil. At least until the threat of Ra's Al Ghul was past.

Moments later, the door swung open. Felicity turned to see Oliver stepping inside.

Once Oliver laid eyes on Felicity the thoughts in his head - pleading and cursing all went silent. Just seeing her face changed everything. "Felicity."

Then something unexpected happened. Without a word, she launched herself toward him. Her arms encircled his neck and her body was against his like they were magnetized.

He was overwhelmed by the feel of her, so close. Her smooth cheek dragged across his rough jaw. Then, her lips were on his, warm and soft at first, but soon they became more desperate. Their tongues made contact and the sudden heat was incredible. He heard a primal groan but wasn't sure which one of them had made it. She tasted like coffee and butter, which was kind of phenomenal.

Oliver's left hand slid from Felicity's ribs to her back and he drew her closer. His other fingers roamed down to her waist, then to her hip bone and finally pressed the soft flesh of her bottom. God, it felt as nice as he imagined, all those times she walked away from him in those skirts. He opened his eyes briefly while changing angles on the kiss. Her eyes were still closed and she looked as lovely as he had ever seen her.

Oliver smiled and squeezed her butt. Her eyes opened. His face, so perfectly handsome was now just inches away and the realization of this incredible development blew her mind. He still held her flush against him. His greedy mouth went in for another kiss, different from the first. It was slow and deliberate this time. He was making up for many lost kisses since that one they shared in the hospital. _Even if I never get to kiss this woman again, she won't forget this one_.

Felicity felt her toes curling. Somehow she had underestimated his skill level in this area and a spontaneous emotional reaction was evolving quickly into something more intense. She wasn't complaining. This was by far the best rescue she had experienced so far. Oliver's mouth traveled down to her neck, where his warm breath created new excitement. Meanwhile, she finally touched his hair, then ran a finger along the edge of his ear and rubbed his ear lobe under her thumb and fingers. It was soft, like velvet. She wondered if his cock felt like that too.

Shaking. Oliver's face was still buried in her neck, but he was vibrating against her with laughter. Suddenly she realized what was happening and her face flushed a crimson color. She bit her lip and cursed to herself. Oliver enveloped her in his arms for a minute while he stopped chuckling. He kissed her cheek and pulled back to look into her eyes, all the while wearing a mischievous grin. He mouthed the words. I love you. She took a deep breath and felt her eyes welling up.

"Oliver, please take me away from here before I have to thank Malcolm Merlyn for kidnapping me." He nodded approval and grabbed her hand to pull her towards the door. She tugged away to retrieve her purse from the bed.

They emerged from the warehouse into bright light and fresh air. Felicity had found her shoes on the way out and was holding them in her hands. She pulled Oliver to a stop and held onto him while she put each one on. Next, they ran to his motorcycle. Oliver straddled it quickly and started it up. The engine grumbled low. Felicity studied the seating situation, then gamely hiked her skirt up to climb on behind him. He studied her bare knee and thigh with approving eyes and then his hand. She covered his hand with hers, and then wrapped her arms around him tightly. Oliver backed up and turned the bike toward the street. Together they rode out into sunshine.

**Wow. That chapter kind of got away from me. It's got me wondering what can possible happen in the last chapter! Apologies for any mistakes. My spell check isn't working properly (it seems to be stuck on French...I don't know...maybe it thinks the story is too ooh la la now. LOL)**

**Once again, thank you so much for reading and for your kind comments. They mean so much. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Before we head into this last chapter, I want to just say thank you again to everyone who has read so far and left such nice comments. You are awesome people. I also need to warn that this chapter gets quite naughty. If such things offend you, I would stop after the market bit. Seriously (or is it sinceriously?) I have never written anything explicit before and I am tremendously grateful that I will never have to look any of you readers in the eye. In other words, I hope you enjoy it. **

**The Road**

Route 72 was a winding highway that led from one end of Starling City to the other side and out to the edge of the Bay. Oliver had taken this road to the Queen's cottage hundreds of times when he was young. This drive was different for many reasons. First, the scenery had changed. Little one-intersection towns had grown into bedroom communities with housing developments and Big Belly Burger franchises. And this time he was bringing the woman he loved.

Oliver had rescued Felicity from captivity but wasn't sure what came next. He stopped his motorcycle near a park. The blonde IT prodigy behind him continued holding his torso like it was a life raft, even when he turned off the engine.

"Do you want to go home, Felicity?"

"This is home," she responded, adamantly, snuggling closer to him and adjusting her thighs against his legs for maximum connection. He smiled warmly.

"Where do you want me to take you?"

"Someplace where we can be together. Just us."

"Okay." And with that they set off. An hour later, Oliver stopped the bike in front of a little market directly across from the Bay. It was one of those village shops with large signs in the windows advertising prices of produce and fishing gear. He produced a phone from his pocket. "Merlyn destroyed yours. You'll have to use the Arrow phone." She grabbed for it.

"You know what you need to do?" She made a sad face and nodded her response. Oliver climbed off and headed towards the store to grab some groceries, only to stop and double back. He stopped and took in the view – Felicity straddling his bike in her hiked up pink dress, sun-drenched legs still set to accommodate his frame, blonde tendrils wild around her face and holding a cell phone. He approached, planted a soft kiss on her lips, which made her smile again, and then moved his mouth to her porcelain ear. In a throaty whisper, he continued. "How many condoms do you think I should get?" He stepped back to see the effect.

Felicity closed her eyes and bit her lip, stifling a yelp. His question had the remarkable effect of making her throat dry and her panties wet at the same time. Damn, this was multitasking on a whole new level. Her mind scrambled for a sexy retort, which was obviously called for, but a challenge. She had just spent sixty minutes clinging to what amounted to an Oliver Queen-shaped vibrator and her brain couldn't be expected to fire on all cylinders.

Oliver smiled, happy he had gotten the last word in and resumed his path to the door. As he reached for the aluminum handle he heard Felicity call out, "See if they have any whipped cream. It's probably next to the live bait…" Oliver gripped the handle and lowered his forehead against the glass door before entering.

Felicity gingerly climbed off the motorcycle to stretch her legs and looked at her phone screen. She took a deep breath, and then dialed. She paced the parking lot, waiting for a response.

"Hi Detective Lance. No, it's me. What can I say? It's a little embarrassing. I got caught up in something and I left my car and my phone broke. Right. Murphy's Law. But, I'm doing fine. With my boyfriend now." Felicity made an "oh my God, is Oliver my boyfriend now?" face. "We decided to get away. But yes, I am absolutely fine." She looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes, I am calling on that phone. You sure ask a lot of questions. A lady doesn't kiss and tell, Detective. Yes, thanks again. Bye!" Felicity hung up with a sigh and wished that was the end of it, but she had two more calls to make. She paced the parking lot leaving heel prints in the dirt.

"Hi Ray. Yeah, I'm sorry to worry you. Everything's fine. I do have plans this weekend. I am out of pocket. I'll see you on Monday. No, Ray. Really, I need to go. Take care." Her expression was solemn. That was hard. She thought he sounded a little crushed. She took a deep breath and dialed one more number.

"Hi, John," she smiled. "Yeah, Oliver's burner." On that, Oliver emerged from the market with a couple of bags of groceries. "I lost mine, John. Lyla and Sara okay? Good." Felicity tried to adopt her most nonchalant voice which sounded kind sing-songy and ridiculous. "Just wanted to let you know I'm fine. But I won't be able to help with the vigilante-ing this weekend." She was looking a little sheepish. Finally, Oliver grabbed the phone.

"Hey Dig. Yeah, I'm not vigil-ant-e-ing either." He smiled at Felicity's word and lowered his forehead to meet hers. "Taking the weekend…with my girl. Stop clapping, Dig. It's weird. Yeah, sure, this number is good. Hopefully nothing comes up. See you Monday." Oliver hung up. He winked at Felicity (she liked it when he did it). Then he walked across the road and hurled the phone into the Bay like a quarterback. Felicity pumped her fist in the air.

**The Cottage**

After another thirty minutes, Oliver pulled off the main road and down a long dirt drive. Their journey ended at the Queen family cottage, a modest-sized bungalow with a cedar shake siding located on a little peninsula by the Bay. The garden and trees had grown wild, indicating it had been left untended for some time, but this had the effect of making it more private. Right now Oliver couldn't think of a more beautiful spot, or a more private one, to share with his best friend.

Oliver observed Felicity's shoes and new she'd never make it up the rocky path. He handed her the grocery bags and swooped everything he wanted up in his arms. Felicity squealed as he climbed. He put her down and dug a key from beneath an old planter. "Just like regular people," Felicity marveled. Then the door swung open and it was like a time machine. Everything looked exactly as it had so many years ago.

The cottage was a family property, but it was mostly Oliver's father's place. Robert Queen had a passion for the water and wanted to pass it on to his son, but business kept him busy and their visits to the place became very rare over time. By the time he was a teenager, Oliver was too involved in being an entitled brat to notice they had stopped coming.

"This place is amazing!" Felicity surveyed the main space, which served as the living room and the kitchen. She noticed right away that it wasn't decorated like the Queen Mansion at all. No fancy antiques or opulent fabrics. It was assembled with comfort in mind – old gnarled wood pieces and oversized fluffy furniture. She was mesmerized by a large fish that hung, mounted on the wall above the fireplace. "Who caught that?"

"My Mom, if you can believe it." Oliver smiled as he put away the groceries.

"Seriously?" she hugged her arms, feeling a bit chilly now.

"Apparently she caught it on their honeymoon. They went to the Bahamas. There was no Queen fortune then. Anyway, the way he would tell it, he never got a bite, but she managed to land this fish. She named him Hank."

Felicity was drawn toward sliding glass doors that faced the glistening Bay while Oliver retrieved a bottle of wine from a cabinet. She was transfixed by the water and the birds flying overhead. She heard the pop of a cork behind her. "Yay," she cheered quietly, but never took her eyes off the view.

Oliver poured two glasses of red and placed them on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. He sat on the sofa and watched Felicity, framed in the large window, pink and blonde against the blue sky. Only hours earlier he had thought she could be lost to him. Seeing her here now in this place took his breath away.

Felicity turned to see him. "When I told you that I didn't want to be a woman you loved." She shook her head and Oliver crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "Sometimes we say things out loud, hoping that will make them true. Right then, I was so freaked out. Merlyn said you were dead and it tore me open…and then there you were…but before I could tell you how I felt you were making decisions that I didn't, that I couldn't fully understand."

"I'm so sorry for that. I didn't mean…"

"I know that now, Oliver. I just hope you…still feel…because I do love you."

He smiled and beckoned her over and took her hands. "I love you, Felicity Smoak."

Oliver pulled her arm around his neck, bringing her in close. They studied each other for a few heady minutes. "You still exasperate me," she smiled. Oliver pursed his lips together. "I'm not going to stop doing that."

Felicity felt a swell of love rising in her chest. Oliver reached with his thumb, just under her glasses, to catch a tear that was forming. Then he moved to hold her face in his hands. He drew her closer and barely touched her lips with his. Over and over, he brushed against them softly. The feeling was tantalizing. She hummed a little, desperate for more contact, but held back.

"Oliver," she panted. He pulled back and stared into her.

"Fe-li-ci-ty. Later on I'm going to do that again," his voice was deep and deliberately sexy. "And hopefully you'll scream."

Felicity blanched. What a scandalous thing to say. Wow. Oliver Queen. She couldn't hold back any longer and moved toward his lips again. This time she made serious contact, discovering his mouth all over again. She rubbed her fingers against the stubble at his jaw and reveled in the sensory overload she was getting.

Oliver wasn't really holding back, but he was taking his time. He had fingers of one hand twisting in her pony tail and the other hand on her knee, rubbing it with his thumb and enjoying the feel of her soft skin.

Felicity shifted, her kisses traveling down to his neck. She tasted the salty sweat from his fight with Merlyn with her tongue, then claimed a spot on his collarbone and directed all of her attention to it until she was dragging her teeth across it. Oliver reveled in the lustful attention of his lovely companion and found his hand instinctually moving up her thigh. She was practically in his lap now, which was pretty close to right where he wanted her.

"Miss Smoak," he groaned. She heard his response and pulled away, smiling proudly.

"You weren't expecting that, were you?" His darkening eyes caused her to swallow. He watched her Adam's apple bob nervously. He brought her hand up to his mouth. She watched him study it and kiss her knuckles, one by one, reverentially.

"I…I've been told I'm something of a wildcat in the bedroom. Not by many people, of course. Because there haven't been. Just…but yeah, a wildcat. That could be my hero nickname if it wasn't already taken." Oliver lifted his eyes to hers.

"I did warn you that I liked to nibble things." Felicity took one of the wine glasses and sipped, still maintaining eye contact with him. "I'm starving, by the way. Haven't eaten since breakfast."

Oliver pecked her wine-flavored lips, then sighed and disengaged from his companion and the sofa. "A good host should feed his guest." Oliver picked up his wine and headed toward the kitchen. Felicity did the same and followed, stopping beside the kitchen island. She sipped her wine and watched him get out a medium-sized , shallow bowl and line it with a dish towel. He looked serious now, concentrating on the task at hand.

He tore open a box of crackers and dumped a pile of them into the bowl. Oliver took one and handed it over to her. Felicity gratefully accepted it and started munching. He filled his mouth with one and chewed while moving to produce a cutting board followed by a new block of cheese from the fridge. He opened the package and cut up some cubes, adding them in the bowl. Then he retrieved a bag of oranges from the fridge and let them topple into the bowl, which was now full. He studied it, then looked to her for approval. She nodded.

Oliver moved around the counter and sidled up behind Felicity. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and inhaled. He ran his hands down her womanly hips, pressing into the material of her dress until he reached the hem above her knees. He wrapped his fingers around her thighs and slid them up, pink fabric pooling above his thumbs.

Felicity felt the zipper of her dress moving before she heard it. Her shoulders were exposed to cool air, but that changed quickly as Oliver covered the skin with kisses. Felicity moved to steady herself, putting her wine down on the counter. She reached back to unfasten her pony tail.

"Can I?" he whispered behind her.

"Okay." She smiled as Oliver negotiated the unclasping of her hair tie. He had fantasized about doing this a thousand times. It was cheesy, the whole "Why Miss Smoak, you're beautiful" transformation he was affecting, but he didn't care. With her hair let loose and soft, she turned and beamed at him. Did she always look at him like this and he avoided noticing? He didn't know, but he certainly wanted her to keep looking at him this way.

Felicity thought right then how handsome he looked now, eyes blazing with excitement. Then he moved close, but reached past her, snagged the bowl and his glass, and pivoted away.

"I thought we could bring this with us." He headed towards a hallway, backing out, so he could keep his eyes on his lovely companion. "There's mint chip and whipped cream for later, if you're goo-."

He didn't get to finish. Felicity stood in place and tugged on the shoulders of her dress. Loosened, it dropped to the floor. She stood there now in a light pink bra and panties. And heels. And the necklace he made for her. She felt his eyes on her. She moved slowly to grab the bottle of red wine, then her glass and then took steps to join him. He wasn't sure what was turning him on more – the tantalizing way she looked or the confidence of the move.

Hands full, he was unable to touch her when she approached. His breath was catching a little now in his throat. Then she stopped, just inches away and licked her lips. _You can do this, Felicity Meghan Smoak_, she definitely heard in her head. "Oh, I'll get dessert."

Oliver cleared his throat and smiled a little. He turned to lead the way down the hall with one word chanting in his mind_. Wildcat_. _Wildcat_. _Wildcat_.

**The Bed**

The main bedroom wasn't lavish. There was a decent bed, a couple of nightstands, a dresser and a chaise (which had to be Moira's idea). Blue and white bedding and curtains affected an appropriate nautical feel. Oliver noticed none of it.

Quickly, he and Felicity were kneeling together on the bed. Oliver pressed his open hand against her cheek.

"Glasses on or off?" His eyebrow rose.

"I don't need them for close up work," She grinned and removed them, placing them on the night stand.

Oliver caressed her with his hands and his tongue, the former exploring her ass beneath those delightful lace panties and the latter worshiping her throat. He followed the chain of the necklace down with his thumb and kissed the place where the flattened bullet settled. With a gentle finger he reached under her bra strap and pulled it to the side. Felicity arched into him, effectively offering her breast. He slid his lips down to find the soft skin along the top. Then he moved to the round underside. Finally, his open mouth found her nipple, which he proceeded to knead with his tongue. He heard her gasp and was satisfied with the reaction.

Felicity's hands were buried under Oliver's shirt, on a mission to touch every spot she'd observed from afar and dreamed about. She couldn't see his scars now, but she had memorized them over the years. Meanwhile, everything south of her neck was pretty much vibrating , wet, or on fire. The tightness between her legs was building and her breath was unsteady.

Felicity moved her hands to unhook her bra, catching Oliver's eye and he responded by peeling his shirt off. Their mouths crashed together again while their hands roamed each other's newly revealed flesh. When she sucked his tongue into her mouth he stroked the skin behind her teeth with a rhythm that caused her hips to move. Her right hand slid down and under the waistband of his track pants. Oliver pulled away from the kiss to stare at her –breathless, practically naked and gently holding onto his cock with her impossibly soft hand. He grabbed her face and looked into her eyes.

"Tell me. Tell me what you want, Felicity." His tone was low and desperate and she liked it. Felicity looked down and traced the edges of his Bratva star. The fingers of her other hand slipped off his member and slid to his hip. She took a deep breath.

"Oliver, I…want you to fuck me." It all rushed out of her. "Then I want to take a shower. Then I want us to make love for a very long time. But that's later. I need the fucking now. Do you understand?"

Oliver Queen went mentally blind for a second and then, processing the request, gathered Felicity in his arms and threw her down on the bed. He pulled a condom packet out of his pocket. In a second, his bottoms flew across the room and he was kneeling between her legs. She admired him while he rolled on the latex.

Felicity suddenly thought about Icarus and the sun. That was what it felt like being this close to Oliver right now. Heat was pulsing off of him. He leaned forward and pulled her panties down. Too slow. Her hips bucked impatiently. Oliver noted the pink silk fabric was wet in his hand and rubbed it against his cock.

"Oliver, that's really, really sexy what you're doing. But I am dying here," she pleaded. With a grin, he tossed the panties and advanced between her legs. Teasing, he went in for a sweet kiss. Elsewhere, his fingers traveled deftly up her thigh and into the hottest, slickest place he could imagine. Felicity was groaning and begging against his mouth. One finger. Two fingers. She bucked again and he removed them. He placed himself against her entrance and pressed into her, careful to restrain himself. He had spent the morning being aggressive. It would be too easy to access that now.

Before he knew what was happening, the woman he loved wrapped her legs around his waist. Her heels dug into his hips as she pulled him into her. She screamed and a tear slid down her face. He held his breath and waited. A few moments later, she moved and sighed. She repeated the movement. Oliver looked down at her and she nodded. It was his turn to move. He grabbed her hips and thrust into her. She gasped, so he did it again. He began to get a rhythm going. Once he sensed she was relaxing he'd go faster or deeper into her. Still inside her, he altered his position so that he could kiss her while he kept up his pace. Oliver loved it when she moaned against his lips.

Felicity tangled her fingers into his hair while her hips accepted his movements and demanded more. "Please," she gasped. In truth, between the epic kisses and the motorcycle ride and the flirty talk she'd almost had an orgasm when he looked at her in the living room. Now all it would take would be for –

Oliver moved again, shifting her legs further apart so he could get even deeper. He thrust in slowly with as much self-control as he could muster. Twice. Then two more times, fast and hard. Felicity screamed his name and bucked her hips at him as she flew apart. The action flipped a switch and he started thrusting at a moderate pace. He was close to the edge. She caught his eye and slowly ran her hand down between her breasts. It landed between her legs and she rubbed herself, resurrecting her orgasm again. The sight was all he needed to let go.

The light was changing outside as Oliver rested his head on Felicity's stomach, one hand wrapped around her back and the other happily situated on her breast. This was the most alive he had felt in a very long time.

Felicity stared at the ceiling, one arm under her pillow. Her other hand gently skimmed across Oliver's forehead and down his temple. She brushed the stubble on his jaw and made her way to massage his ear with her fingertips.

"I'm waiting for you to say it."

"You're a wildcat," he sighed dreamily. Felicity grinned.

"Oliver, you cannot sell this place now. Ever. We're just going to have to find the money for those improvements somewhere else," she babbled.

Oliver turned his head and placed light kisses near her belly. She was right about that.

"You know what?" she added. "It does feel like velvet."

Felicity heard a groan and the bed shook with laughter.

**The End.**

**Thank you so much for reading my story. **


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